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Page 370
who plotted his death. Standing quiet behind her husband's chair, Alinor warred against showing her flash of resentment, but it soon faded. Salisbury's effort was superfluous. Ian had given her his reasons long ago. He would be faithful to King John despite any cause to rebel, because there was no one else.
Salisbury finished his wine and stood up. "God bless you," he said softly and then, with bitter fervor, "God keep you."
When she had seen their guest out, Alinor returned. Ian had not moved. He was staring at the dark stain the wine had made on the table. Alinor began to dress without summoning her maids. Ian turned his head to look greedily at the firm, white body. He did not want to die. There was a great lust in him to live, to sup more fully of the pleasure and the treasure he had waited for for so long. Shift and tunic obscured what he never seemed to have enough of, even the moment after he had spilled his seed into her. He lifted his eyes to his wife's face.
"Would you consider remaining here, or even setting out for Iford?" Ian asked slowly.
Fear clutched at Alinor's throat so that the one word she forced out came in a gasp "No." Ian was looking again at the wine stain. "Do not ask it of me," she begged when she had regained mastery of her voice. "Do not condemn me to wait and pray in this silent house."
"No, I will not." Ian looked up again, smiling a little. "I should have known you would rather see the blood spill."
"Not yours."
He smiled more broadly. "Doubtless a little will be let, but not, I believe, so much as the king hopes." Then he frowned. "What I do not understand is how Salisbury came to hear of this. Men do not tell him such tales of the kingand he knew. He all but begged me to refuse to fight."

 
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